


Finding the Right Words

by thekeyholder



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Inspired by Music, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:11:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is mostly narrated by Thorin. After the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo never leaves the king's side. So when Thorin wakes, he asks the hobbit to become his advisor. Bilbo denies the offer and announces that he'll go home soon. Thorin realises that even though he can't keep Bilbo there with political positions, he might have a chance if he confesses his feelings. The question is if he can find the courage to express them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The whole story was inspired by a very beautiful song: [Stay by Hurts](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2t5JbPU1Vy4). I must confess that I've been writing it for (too) many months, especially while on trains, going to concerts. :D It is very dear to me, I hope you will enjoy it.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who supported my idea. Special thanks and lots o chocolate go out to [AlexisGreen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexisGreen) for betaing it!

I feel something warm shining on my face, the light so powerful that it pries open my eyes. Everything is bright, almost blindingly so: even the air seems slightly white and golden, the heavenly light falling softly like a fine curtain.

 

Looking around, I realise the place is familiar: it is the field between Erebor and Dale, but I can’t see either city. Out of habit, I feel my side for Orcrist, but it is not there. My body feels unusually light as well: I am not wearing any armour.

 

Normally, I would worry about it, but this place is peaceful. It’s surreal and it radiates bliss, so I know that I am safe here. Closing my eyes, I let the pleasant breeze caress my face and hair. A content sigh leaves my mouth as I smell the sweet perfume of wild flowers.

 

I smile for this aroma reminds me of a very dear friend. I walk and walk, humming to myself as I imagine how his bright eyes will kindle when he sees me and how his golden curls will bounce as he will – without doubt – run towards me.

 

My joy subsides considerably after a while; it dawns on me that this road is infinite and doesn’t lead anywhere. It’s then that it occurs to me that maybe… maybe the battle didn’t end well. Suddenly, the field in front of me is littered with corpses, the familiar and dear faces of my Company staring with glassy eyes at the sky. I blink and the horrid image is gone.

 

Something has changed. The ethereal light is fading away quickly. The wind picks up and becomes chilly.

 

_I will never see Fili and Kili again._

 

The Sun is slowly getting dimmer, my stomach clenching with worry.

 

_I will never hear Dís’ hearty laugh again or see her dark eyes crinkle with joy._

 

The Sun is but a black circle on the grey sky, just as black as the terror seizing my heart.

 

 _I will never know if Bilbo is still upset and I will never be able to_ _apologise_ _again._

 

My pained scream echoes hollowly as everything around me turns into darkness and I cry until I become darkness as well.

 

* * * * *

 

He was never left alone. What if he woke to find himself in a dark tent, confused and having no idea how he got there? That would certainly be a very unpleasant feeling. No one even dared to think of the possibility of the king not ever waking up, even though he had been unconscious for a week.

 

There were always at least two people seated around Thorin’s bed, although sometimes the number exceeded ten. Oin often had to shoo out fellow members of the Company. He knew, of course, that the dwarves were listening outside, relying heavily on Nori’s excellent eavesdropping skills (a very useful skill in his profession), but at least they weren’t underfoot.

 

They would wait nervously in front of the king’s tent every evening, hoping their physician would tell them good news. Oin would just shake his head slightly, almost imperceptibly, and the Company would re-enter the tent with their shoulders slightly sagged and a sad glint in their eyes. Nevertheless, they would try to comfort Dís and the princes. And Bilbo, of course.

 

Despite what most dwarves believed, that he’d go home as soon as possible after all the horrible accusations Thorin had flung at him, the little hobbit stayed in the tent since the end of the battle, only leaving the king’s side when he assisted the healers. He helped where he could: he would put a wet cloth on the fighters’ foreheads if their fever was too high or he would apply healing ointment on minor cuts and bruises. Thorin received his utmost care, though; except the deep, problematic cut on the king’s side which he left for Oin’s professional hands.

 

Moreover, Bilbo was the one who suggested that the dwarves clean one of the royal chambers, so their king would lie more comfortably. The Company set to work with enthusiasm, eager to take their minds off of things.

 

No wonder that Dís took an instant liking to Bilbo. She arrived four days after the battle ended, accompanied by only three guards, but she was desperate to make certain that her family was safe. After the happy reunion with her sons, they escorted her to Thorin’s tent, preparing her for the sad image that would await her. Dís stopped by the entrance as she observed a tiny creature bustling around her brother, talking incessantly to him as if he were awake.

 

“You look better today, Thorin. You have finally a bit of colour in your cheeks, though I hope it’s not because you have a fever. I hoped Oin’s medicine helped you fight it; we really don’t need an infection right now. Come on, Thorin, you defeated an orc army, this should be a piece of cake.”

 

Bilbo took the dwarf king’s hand in his and sat down beside the bed. Dís watched him with a mixture of wonder, amusement and respect. Anyone who was this kind to her reckless brother was her friend. She had heard so many praises from her sons and the other dwarves and she finally understood their words.

 

The first thing she did was to thank Bilbo for taking care of Thorin and for talking to him, even though he couldn’t reply. Bilbo was happy to finally meet the princess – he, too, had heard much about her and couldn’t wait to meet her.

 

They sat on either side of Thorin’s bed. As their conversation progressed, Dís and Bilbo got to know each other and they liked what they found in their conversation partner. Dís particularly enjoyed the hobbit’s recollection of the journey, since her brother always sent her short letters; although, she boxed her sons’ ears when she heard certain bits of the story.

 

However, Dís was especially concerned about the Arkenstone business and would have certainly slapped her brother, had he not been lying unconscious. She found out about it from the Company, though it was not an easy task as everyone was reluctant to talk about it. Only Bilbo’s repeated assurances calmed her.

 

Dís was also impressed by Bilbo’s initiative to clear a room in the mountain for Thorin. She had learned that the hobbit himself chose the room and the dwarves were glad to make themselves useful. Kili and Fili had also revealed that Bilbo wanted to help as well, but naturally, they told him that that it was hard work and he should take care of the wounded. That task Bilbo executed remarkably well, as everyone noted.

 

The next evening Fili and Kili brought dinner for their mother and Bilbo. Dís knew the boys were hungry for affection – they had probably terrorised Bilbo before her arrival, although the hobbit seemed like he was in dire need of a hug himself.

 

Perhaps there was something in the air as after Oin’s visit, the Company came into the tent. Every dwarf sat there pensively, seldom murmuring a few words. Bilbo looked up when they started signing an ancient, heartfelt song about a brave king. He enjoyed the harmony of the deep voices, but something was missing: a voice that sometimes threw ill words in his direction, but at the same time it had become a beloved voice to him, one that he hoped fiercely that he’d hear again.

 

After a moment of solemn silence, Balin announced the good news: they finished restoring the royal chamber, so they agreed to move the king there the next day. Dís ordered Bilbo to go to sleep for she would stay beside her brother that night. The hobbit was reluctant at first, but then agreed, promising to be back before dawn.

 

The next day four dwarves carefully transported Thorin in a cot to the chamber, Bilbo and Dís guiding them. The chamber was large and clean: the dwarves had done a great job. Thorin was placed on the bed and Oin checked his bandages for any bleeding wounds. It seemed that everything was all right, so the court physician left to attend to his other patients.

 

Dís hoped that she could stay with Bilbo, but Balin told her that she was expected at the meeting with Dain, Bard and Thranduil, on behalf of her brother. She excused herself from her new friend, but Bilbo didn’t mind looking after Thorin, saying that it made him feel useful.

 

Had Dís known that the meeting would last till evening, she might have feigned illness. It was excruciatingly long; at times she thought she’d fall asleep, but the council turned out quite violent. Her ears still rang with the loud insults thrown by the participants at each other.

 

She entered Thorin’s room and felt like crying thinking about the uncertain future of the dwarves. Bilbo greeted her with a smile and placed a plate with a generous portion of dinner into her hands, making the princess very emotional – she felt like hugging Bilbo gratefully.

 

“I cannot thank you enough for this,” Dís said as she finished eating.

 

“Oh, it was nothing. I know that councils can be exhausting. It gets even worse when they switch to calling each other names…”

 

“At first it was funny, Dain calling Thranduil an arrogant weedlover, but the situation got out of control. I had to shout to silence them.”

 

“Humiliating,” Bilbo shook his head. “Sounds familiar, though. I had to climb on the table and yell at them to stop.”

 

Dís smiled as she imagined the scene. Maybe she should drag the hobbit with her to the next meeting; it could be fun. She suddenly realised that Bilbo had done so much for her family. He was more than a friend: he was family. She did something that lady dwarves did only to someone they loved: she kissed Bilbo’s cheek. The hobbit seemed to understand the importance of the gesture for he looked at the princess incredulously, his eyes becoming watery with tears of pure wonder and joy.

 

“Dís…” he said and she smiled, Bilbo noticing how her eyes crinkled in the same way as Thorin’s.

 

“I’ll watch over my brother this night.”

 

“Oh no, no, no, you must be exhausted and you need to be well-rested for tomorrow’s meetings.”

 

“But you took care of him all day!” Dís protested.

 

“Don’t you worry, I had some help. Kili was here while you and Fili died of boredom in the council.”

 

Dís narrowed her eyes. “I hope he didn’t annoy you too much.”

 

The princess turned and looked at the only bed in the room (beside Thorin’s) and while she was musing silently, Bilbo nudged her to the bed. Dís sat down reluctantly.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Very. You must take control over the meeting tomorrow. Besides, that armchair is pretty comfy and big enough for me. I can curl up on it,” Bilbo said and smiled.

 

True to his word, Bilbo stayed up for a while, his eyes travelling between the red flames in the fireplace and Thorin’s figure. It reminded him of the nights they spent on the journey. Thorin’s rising and falling chest was a reassuring image and Bilbo could pretend that this was a normal night and everything was fine. He closed his tired eyes and fell asleep smiling.

 

Bilbo wasn’t usually an early riser, but something woke him up. As usual, he first looked at Thorin, but the light of dawn blinded him for a moment. He tilted his head, but couldn’t believe his eyes. He jumped up from the armchair and kneeled before Thorin’s bed, but the image was the same: Bilbo watched fascinated as a tear rolled down from the corner of Thorin’s left eye to his pillow.

 

Bilbo woke Dís and told the guard posted at the door to bring Oin urgently. Dís was wringing her hands, caressing Thorin’s forehead from time to time.

 

“This is a good sign, right?” she asked unsure. “I hope he’s not in pain, though.”

 

Oin came as fast as he could. After a careful examination, he confirmed that Thorin was slowly gaining back consciousness. Dís asked when would her brother wake up, but the physician couldn’t give her a definite answer: it could take a few minutes, hours, maybe even the next day.

 

Their quiet discussion was suddenly interrupted by a pained moan and they all rushed to the king’s bed.

 

* * * * *

 

I thought I was back in that in-between world, for as I opened my eyes I was blinded by light and I could smell wild flowers too. Then two shadows came into view, calling my name softly. I tried to get up, but I was pushed back gently.

 

“You mustn’t strain yourself, Your Highness. Are you in pain?”

 

I think I managed a grunt, so someone held my head as a bitter liquid was poured into my mouth. It must have been a sleeping draft as I dozed off soon.

 

When I woke up again it was getting dark. My mouth was so dry, I smacked my lips. Someone held my head again and gave me water. Then they even wiped my mouth, very gently.

 

“Better?”

 

I was so concentrated to clench my thirst that I did not realise who helped me.

 

“Bilbo?” I whispered uncertainly.

 

He was silent for a while and I did not know why as he hid in the shadows and I couldn’t read his face.

 

“It’s me,” he finally said and leaned in to feel my forehead and see if I had fever.

 

I gripped his wrist and Bilbo froze – I could feel his heart rate going up alarmingly. Bilbo was afraid. The thought hurt worse than all my wounds.

 

“I’m sorry,” I said hurriedly, remembering the vision. “I was a fool and I owe you so much. I cannot bear the thought that you hate me.”

 

I placed his small hand on my cheek and covered it with mine. Dear Bilbo put his other hand on my right cheek, leaned even closer and united our foreheads. “I have never hated you. Not even for a second.”

 

A huge weight fell off my mind.

 

I felt weak, but my mood improved when Dís and my nephews came home from the meeting. I didn’t tell them anything when they almost smothered me with their hugs; it was just too good to have them back. I asked Dís about the meeting, but she waved me off, saying that I needed to focus on recovering and nothing else.

 

After a light supper, there was a timid knock on the door. Kili looked outside and then asked me if I was too tired for guests. I told my nephew to let them in and Dís helped me sit up. The members of the Company came in sheepishly, their eyes wide with joy and relief. One of them remembered and they all bowed, a bit awkwardly perhaps, but their gesture felt good.

 

I smiled at them, not even trying to hide how pleased I was to see them all right. They didn’t stay long, so they wouldn’t tire me. As they were exiting the room, I saw Dwalin and Ori catching Bilbo by his shoulders. I was not really able to hear what happened from all the conversations going on around me, but I saw Dwalin mouthing something like “Take Bilbo with you – he needs to rest.” I craned my neck and saw that, supported by Ori, Bilbo too left the room, looking back at me from the door. He must have noticed my inquisitive look, for he smiled weakly and wished me a good night.

 

At least Dwalin stayed in the chamber, so I could ask him if the halfling was all right. He did look pale, to be honest.

 

“What happened?” I asked Dwalin as he took a seat in the armchair beside my bed.

 

“I think our hobbit burnt out from looking after your sorry arse for so long.”

 

“What? What do you mean?” I asked, confused.

 

“He’s been up almost day and night since the battle, taking care of you, especially before Dís arrived. Exhaustion must have caught up with him; he almost fainted back there. I told Ori to feed him properly and put him in bed. Guess this day brought too many emotions.”

 

“But… but why did you let him?” I groaned.

 

An ill hobbit was just what we needed. A hobbit who was ill because of _me_.

 

“Well, you know him. If he truly wants something, he does it without needing anyone’s approval. I mean, not even Dís could convince him. He was glued to your side.”

 

The last sentence was stressed with a meaningful look which, translated, would have approximately meant: “You owe him so much, you will never be able to pay it back.” There was an even deeper implication, but I refused to dwell upon it.

 

“He even went to the first meetings until Dís arrived. You should have seen him, the way he made Thranduil and Bard listen to him… when he told Thranduil to close his pie hole, I thought I’d choke while trying not to laugh out loudly.”

 

I smiled proudly. “Good, maybe I should make him my advisor.”

 

“You’d better,” Dwalin replied seriously.

 

Silence fell on us for a moment.

 

“All right, I’ll let you sleep,” he concluded.

 

After I took my medicine, I lay awake for a while and thought about what Dwalin had told me. I realised that when I had said that I might ask Bilbo to be my advisor, Dwalin became unexpectedly fierce. It seemed that Mister Baggins had earned Dwalin’s respect; a privilege only a few enjoyed. That was why he was so protective of the hobbit.

 

I decided to ask Bilbo the next day.

 

* * * * *

 

Three weeks had passed since I woke up. This was the first day I was allowed to participate in a meeting, even though I started walking sooner. However, I regretted my decision as soon as I saw Thranduil’s sour face. During the whole meeting I clenched my fists really tight, trying not to land them on his pretentious face.

 

Good thing that Bilbo offered to come with me, because his presence was really soothing. Sometimes he even whispered replies that were the polite versions of what I wanted to say, convincing me that he was a born diplomat. Or an advisor.

 

I asked him right away after the day I had talked with Dwalin. I thought Bilbo would be extremely pleased with my proposition, and he was to some degree, but above all he was shocked. Then his face fell suddenly with some kind of secret realisation and he avoided my eyes. When I prompted for a response, he told me he needed time to think about it. It was not my intention to push him, but I sometimes brought up the matter and he somehow always managed to evade a categorical response.

 

I decided that I’d approach him after the meeting, in the privacy of my chamber. Dís would be there, but I didn’t mind her presence; in fact, I hoped she would help me in my efforts to convince Bilbo to accept the position. Apart from his diffidence, I couldn’t imagine any other reason why he would refuse it.

 

Everyone was pretty much convinced that after what we had gone through, he would stay with us. I even heard Bilbo telling Kili one day that we were his family. One would not abandon their family, right? This position was a reward, a token of my people’s appreciation for what he’d done.

 

On the way to the royal chambers I tried to entertain Bilbo, for he seemed a little broody. Admittedly, the topics discussed at the meeting weren’t exactly uplifting and knowing his sensitivity, he was surely affected by the bad news. We had barely entered my chamber and greeted Dís when Bilbo turned to me suddenly and, fiddling with his coat, mumbled something incomprehensible.

 

“What was that?” I asked as I stepped closer to him and put my hand on his forearm.

 

Trying to decipher his expression, I leaned in and tried to make him look at me, but he was stubbornly staring at the floor.

 

“I…I decided to go back to the Shire.”

 

Behind me, Dís let out a short scream of protest. My hand slipped from Bilbo’s forearm as he was still not looking up to meet my gaze. Although he had whispered the words, they were now echoing painfully loud in my head, blood rushing to my cheeks and making me see black dots moving in the air.

 

I managed somehow to march to my bed and sit down, all while trying to look collected enough for a king.

 

“May I inquire as to the reason of your decision?” I paused to take a shaky breath. “Are you not satisfied with your life here?”

 

I knew that this decision couldn’t have been easy for Bilbo – he kept rubbing his forehead as if trying to make a headache go away.

 

“It’s not that; you know perfectly well that I have more than I could ask for. I can’t stay… Your Highness,” he whispered and bowed before me, _bowed_ , something he had never done before. He had never called me “Your Highness” either. A shiver ran down my spine as he left the chamber.

 

It was unexpectedly cold and dark and I moved to one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace. I stared at the flames, my thoughts running in circles, chasing questions without answers.

 

Dís put her warm hand over mine. She looked as sad as I felt, but she tried to comfort me, saying that Bilbo might change his mind.

 

“He is a most stubborn hobbit,” I grumbled.

 

“I also happen to know a most stubborn dwarf,” Dís replied with a smile and I scooted over so she could sit beside me, putting my arm around her waist.

 

“I just don’t understand…why now? I don’t think it’s because of home sickness. There must be something else.”

 

I glanced at my sister who looked positively like someone who suspected more than they said. She caressed my cheek and sighed: “There very well might be something else. Just think through things and have a sincere talk with Bilbo. I’m sure everything will be all right.”

 

She left the room and I stayed in the armchair till late, sleep and conclusive thoughts eluding me.

 

* * * * *

 

The following days seemed to crawl ever so slowly, the meetings stretching them to infinity. It looked like Bard and Thranduil were set to find mistakes in every term of the peace treaty.

 

Balin had informed me two days before that Bilbo intended to leave in a week. He was preparing for the strenuous trek and I told my trusted advisor to give everything to Bilbo, everything he might need. The short time left pained me deeply and I saw that Fili and Kili – who were present at all the meetings – paled and looked down sadly. I noticed them leaving Bilbo’s chamber with red-rimmed eyes earlier that morning and, before leading them to the council chamber, I held them tightly. This wasn’t easy for either of us.

 

Four days after Bilbo’s announcement I was finally free – no meeting, no official matter. It was finally time to do as Dís told me and think things through. The truth was that I had known for a long time what I felt for Bilbo, but I’d never admitted it to myself, I tried not to even think about it. My feelings became clear to me after he almost fell in the abyss and I jumped to save him, without making sure that I could climb back, without realising that I could have died.

 

Our trip was long and full of perils; I'd wanted to tell Bilbo how I felt, but waited for the right time, postponing it day after day until I was wounded in battle. I decided to visit him in the afternoon, hoping that I would not be too late. Preparing for this conversation felt more frightening than preparing for war.

 

* * * * *

 

As it turned out, it wasn’t easy to find Bilbo alone. The first time I tried to talk to him, he and Bofur were saying an emotional farewell in the hallway and I retreated, unobserved. Fortunately, the second time I was luckier, for Ori had just left Bilbo’s room, so I knew I’d find him alone. I knocked on the door and I heard the soft sounds of quick footsteps.

 

“Did you forget something, Ori?” Bilbo looked wide-eyed as he realised that it wasn’t the little scribe at his door.

 

“Thorin…”

 

“I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

 

“No, not at all. Come in.”

 

I stepped into his chamber and was surprised by its dishevelled state: there were all kinds of things, from clothes, jewelry to weapons strewn across his bed, the floor, everywhere.

 

“So sorry about the state of my chamber, I just didn’t know where to put all these things,” he said, brushing away a few things to make place on the bed. “I didn’t have the heart to turn down anyone’s gift. They are all so kind and generous.”

 

“So, it’s final? Your decision?” I asked in a voice that sounded strangely thin to my ears.

 

Bilbo seemed taken aback by my question. He wringed his hands and sat down hesitantly beside me on the bed.

 

“I think so…” he whispered, but didn’t sound convinced at all.

 

Maybe it was finally time to tell him how I felt – it was as if I had been waiting my whole life for it.

 

“Bilbo,” I rasped, closing my eyes. “I would like you to stay.”

 

I glanced at him, but looked away when I met his inquisitive look. I tried to tell him, and at first it seemed that my words delighted him. “I need y-, that is, Erebor needs you. You’re brave, honest, wise and patient, exactly what the kingdom needs now.”

 

There was no reaction, so I looked at Bilbo. I had never seen him so sad before; the spark in his eyes had vanished and his lips were pursed tightly.

 

“You know, Thorin, when you appeared in my door I thought, I hoped you might…” he sighed and narrowed his eyes. “Never mind. But to answer your previous question, yes, I am quite sure _now_ about my decision.”

 

He got up and shrugged. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got packing to do.”

 

I got up, nodded and left Bilbo’s chamber in a hurry. I had never been more disappointed in myself.

                                                                        


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Thorin tries, he might have a chance. *wink wink*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *fervently ignores canon ending*
> 
> Thank you for reading my story, I hope you'll like this second part too! You'll find some of the lyrics of [Stay by Hurts](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2t5JbPU1Vy4) in the story. :)  
> Thank you to my lovely beta [AlexisGreen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexisGreen/pseuds/AlexisGreen).

A couple of days later Gandalf arrived and I knew that this meant that he and Bilbo would depart the next day. My stomach clenched nervously and I looked at the dark sky, wishing that I could give all the stars to Bilbo, just so he would stay.

 

I woke with a terrible headache the next morning, but the pain in my chest was much greater. A dark gloominess hung in the air, emphasized even more by the eerie silence that had enveloped everything. I had ordered Bilbo’s share of the gold to be put in chests, but one of the dwarves came back to tell me that Master Baggins refused the treasure, saying he had more than enough luggage. I had a feeling that even if Bilbo had no luggage, he would take none of the gold.

 

Dwalin was the one who told me it was time. I felt his accusatory glare on me, but I just walked through the stone halls numbly, looking ahead and nodding automatically when someone greeted me. Bilbo was there in front of the gates, bidding farewell in turn to every dwarf of the Company. Everyone looked miserable and most of them didn’t even try to hide their tears. It wasn’t even necessary as the skies opened over them in the next minute, heavy, cold rain falling over us.

 

Fili and Kili were clutching desperately at Bilbo.

 

“Boys, you can always visit your friend. No need to be so sad,” Gandalf comforted them with a gentle smile.

 

Then finally it was my turn and I didn’t know what to say; I took Bilbo’s hands and couldn’t tear my eyes away from his small fingers. It was like a grey nightmare: we were saying goodbye and the pain would never go away. He was the one who embraced me and I sagged against him.

 

“Take good care of yourself,” was all I could press out between my lips, and he squeezed me tighter, murmuring something that sounded like ‘ _I’ll miss you’_ , but I wasn’t sure.

 

I brushed away some wet curls from his forehead, my touch lingering for a moment longer. Bilbo got on his pony; at the loss of his touch I felt lost and didn’t know what I should do. They made a few steps and even through the curtain of rain I saw it when Bilbo looked back in my eyes, nodding before turning back to face the road. He and Gandalf soon disappeared from our sight.

 

I ran to my chamber and broke down, the image of Bilbo vanishing playing over and over in my mind. Tears were running down my cheeks without my accord and I wiped them away roughly, but couldn’t stop them, so I just let them cloud my sight. A pained cry left my mouth as I flung myself at the bed, trying to muffle the sounds of my suffering.

 

What hurt even more than his departure was that it was all my fault. I only had to say one word, one tiny word, ‘ _Stay’_ , but I couldn’t get it out. As if my tongue had suddenly become lead and I couldn’t form words. It was dark and I cried and I realised that the vision I’d had might actually turn into reality: if Bilbo was not beside me for the rest of my days, I would have a void, meaningless life.

 

I had no idea how much I lay there, motionless, thinking about him. It crossed my mind that everything turned all right the moment Bilbo entered my life. He had saved me and kept me alive when no one else could. His arms were open when every other door was locked. He was the one who gave me hope, something to hold on to, even when I was close to giving up everything, when I was certain that Death had finally come for me.

 

Oh, Bilbo, my Halfling… if you only knew how heartbroken I was, how much it hurt when I let you go…

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

There was a gentle touch on my shoulder and I turned slowly.

 

“Come on, brother, enough with the moping,” Dís said and with Dwalin’s help they got me out of bed.

 

“What are you doing?” I protested, feeling wobbly on my feet. “Let me go!”

 

“Shh, no barking. We cannot bear to see you brooding,” Dwalin explained as he took off my tear-stained tunic and Dís gave me a clean one.

 

“You’re not too late, but you need to hurry up since you couldn’t falter a love declaration _before_ Bilbo actually got bored of waiting until the end of time,” Dís commented and Dwalin guided me to a basin filled with water, indicating that I wash my face.

 

I felt like a child being scolded by his parents in that moment, but I obliged, even though I felt that all my efforts would be futile.

 

“You don’t understand,” I finally started speaking, my voice still hoarse. “I did tell him that he’s needed, that the, uh, kingdom needs him.”

 

Dís snorted as she quickly led me out in the hallway. “You big oaf, you have to tell him about _you_ needing him, not the kingdom. Personal feelings, you have them, right?”

 

I rolled my eyes as we hurried in silence to the gates where the whole Company was waiting. It looked like it wasn’t raining anymore. I turned my attention to Fili and Kili who were patting a silver pony.

 

“Uncle, this is Thunderbolt, the fastest pony we could find,” Fili said with a proud smile.

 

I sighed before I got on the beautiful animal, still not convinced that I had any chances of winning Bilbo back.

 

“Don’t mess it up, you hear me?” Dís warned me and came closer to the pony.

 

“What should I tell him?” I asked quietly, not looking at my sister, but at the long way ahead.

 

“The right words.”

 

“And what would those be?”

 

“Just be honest and tell him how you feel,” Dís advised me and squeezed my hand. “Truth is the best tactic.”

 

Balin came closer as well and said: “Your Highness, Gandalf told me that since the weather was so unfavourable, they would spend the night in Bard’s camp outside Dale because they would be safe there. You will surely find them,” he added with a smile.

 

I nodded, feeling hope rise inside me, and among shouts of ‘Good luck!’ I rode in the red light of the setting Sun.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

I hurried as much as I could while there was still light outside, but darkness soon covered everything. Nevertheless, Thunderbolt deserved his name: he was really fast, carrying me with seeming easiness. Although at first I didn’t think I could catch up with Gandalf and Bilbo, Balin’s words gave me some hope. And while I did want to reach Bard’s camp as soon as possible, I would have also liked more time to think.

 

I knew my feelings for Bilbo and I was convinced that they were true; however, I had no idea how to express them. Since I was a child I had been told that kings are strong, decisive, stoic and show no weakness. Isn’t depending on someone in order to be happy, needing someone like air a weakness?

 

I heard my grandfather’s booming voice in my mind telling me to be proud and relentless, but my mother’s soft-spoken words replaced it: _“You will be king and I know you will be a great one. Just follow your heart and be happy. A happy king rules better than a sad one.”_ When I was young, I probably wouldn’t have disobeyed my grandfather by doing such “foolishness”. But as I looked up at the bright and eternal stars I felt, without a shred of doubt, that even now, heeding my mother’s advice, my ancestors – proud dwarf kings – would approve of my decision.

 

The lights were visible already; Bard’s camp wasn’t far now. When I was close enough to see the outlines of their tents, I slowed down a bit, alerting the guards posted at the entrance of the ruined city of my arrival.

 

“Stop right there!” one of Bard’s men shouted. “Who are you?”

 

I guided Thunderbolt into the circle of light their torches created and squared my shoulders before replying:

 

“I am Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King under the Mountain. I was told that you have some guests tonight. I wish to speak to Mister Baggins.”

 

The guards, confused, looked at each other, but nodded in acknowledgement. I got off Thunderbolt and patted his neck lovingly, hoping that we wouldn’t return alone to Erebor. One of the guards took his reins while the other one walked towards the biggest tent. There was a big fire crackling in front of it, but because of the chill in the air it seemed that most people were gathered inside the tents, probably having supper.

 

The guard entered the tent while I remained outside, hidden in the darkness, and listening to the sounds of conversation and laughter. Through the flap of the tent I noticed Bard with Bilbo on his left. My hobbit held a plate of food in his hand, but he wasn’t eating, just picking at his food, refusing to look at anyone. Gandalf, who sat beside him, glanced from time to time at him, concern clouding his blue eyes.

 

The guard leaned in and whispered the news into Bard’s ear. He looked up sharply, astonished by the words, and finally nodded his approval. He looked at Bilbo, his steady gaze softening... I was quite certain that he knew I was the cause of Bilbo’s hasty departure. He then looked at me as I got inside the warm tent and we greeted each other with a nod.

 

It was only then that Bilbo looked up, his eyes widening, and he got up alarmed.

 

“Thorin,” he whispered, turning to Gandalf for a hint, but the wizard was as clueless as he was.

 

I finally broke the silence: “Good evening, Bard. I apologise for disturbing you at this late hour. May I talk to Master Baggins?”

 

I hoped that Bard wouldn’t notice the desperation in my eyes, the quivering of my voice or the nervous tapping of my fingers. I didn’t want to appear weak. But then I remembered my mother’s words and didn’t care if the people witnessing our discussion felt my anguish. I was going to win back my happiness.

 

“You’re not disturbing us at all. Please, join our supper,” he pointed to his right, but seeing my agitated state he sighed and added: “after you have spoken with Mister Baggins, of course.”

 

He pushed a stunned Bilbo in my direction with a gentle, knowing smile.

 

“What happened? Is everyone all right?” Bilbo asked anxiously.

 

“Do not worry,” I whispered and patted his forearm.

 

I bowed before exiting the tent, leading Bilbo to a log where we could sit down, but the hobbit seemed too unsettled to do so.

 

“Thorin, come on, tell me what happened. Did the boys do something stupid?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

 

“No, nothing like that. I just… ” I looked away, lowering my voice as he sat down beside me. “I need to tell you something.”

 

“Sorry, what was that?” Bilbo asked, leaning in and putting his hand on my right hand.

 

“I need to tell you something. I should have said it sooner, _much_ sooner, but I’m not good with words.”

 

Bilbo squeezed my hand as an encouragement, and I told myself that this was it; I had to continue, even if I stumbled over words and stuttered.

 

“I came after you because… I cannot bear the thought of you leaving… of not seeing you every day in Erebor.”

 

Bilbo breathed in sharply and I placed my hand over his.

 

“I wish you to be there, beside me… until the end of our days.”

 

Bilbo’s face was red, his cheeks glowing in the fire’s light, and yet he shivered. He looked down, avoiding my eyes.

 

“As your advisor?” He asked quietly.

 

“Advisor,” I breathed and continued before he had a chance to interrupt me: “Advisor, friend, consort… and my One.”

 

The last word was barely a whisper, but he heard it, he always heard everything, even the words that I dared not utter.

 

“Thorin, I… ” He buried his face in my shoulder, not saying anything for a while. “Are you sure?” he asked timidly.

 

“Please, Bilbo, change your mind. I know I have caused so much grief to you, but I don’t want to, I _cannot_ lose you,” I buried my nose in his curls and whispered: “Please say you’re mine.”

 

He buried his face in my neck, exhaling warm, shallow breaths on my skin, his small fingers clutching my fur coat.

 

“Stay with me,” I murmured into his golden locks and then kissed his forehead gently.

 

Bilbo’s embrace became tighter, more desperate. “Shh, I’m here,” he whispered comfortingly, and only then did I notice that I was trembling violently. “I’ll stay with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

I covered Bilbo with my coat so he wouldn’t be cold and caressed his cheeks gently. He leaned in and sealed his promise with a delicate, yet passionate kiss. We spent many minutes just looking at each other and kissing, but we decided grudgingly that it was time to go back and say goodbye to Bard.

 

No one was surprised by my arm around Bilbo’s waist, it seemed.  Bard even smiled (not talking about Gandalf who was practically glowing with smug joy).

 

“Everything is all right then?” Bard asked.

 

“More than all right. It’s perfect,” Bilbo replied and we looked at each other, unable to suppress our smiles.

 

“I know I said that we’d have supper with you, but we’d like to get back to the Mountain,” I said.

 

“Of course,” Bard got up and we shook hands.

 

He lolled his head to the right and smiled. “Happiness suits you, Thorin Oakenshield.”

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

I helped Bilbo get on his luggage-burdened pony and I got on Thunderbolt when Gandalf came out to say his farewell.

 

“Well, it looks like I’ll be travelling alone to the Shire,” he said with a sigh.

 

“Ah, yes, sorry about that,” Bilbo scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed.

 

“Nonsense, I would have been very disappointed if you two hadn’t figured it out. Might have had to meddle into things,” he winked and gave me a torch, wishing us a safe journey.

 

We rode in silence, stealing secret glances, until Bilbo said:

 

“You know, you could have saved me a great deal of packing, had you opened your mouth sooner.”

 

I sighed. “I thought we have already agreed on the fact that I’m an idiot.”

 

I got closer to Bilbo and rubbed his back. “Is there any way I could make it up to you somehow?”

 

“I’m sure we’ll find a way.” Bilbo answered, his face breaking out in a promising smile.

 

At the gates of Erebor, among the loud cheers of the dwarves, I watched as Bilbo turned to me, his eyes sparkling with joy, and as he took my hand I felt, for the first time in my life, _complete_.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear, it has a happy ending! Part 2 to be posted soon.


End file.
